Smaug gazed at me as if I were some sort of artifact, never before seen and impossible to understand. I'm quite certain that no one has ever bothered looking at a hobbit like Smaug was looking at me then; after all, hobbits are rather simple creatures, or so it has always seemed to me. We like our home and our parties and our meals, and we spend our time doing simple things. Of course, I suppose I myself am something of a rarity, but really, that was no excuse to stare at me quite like that. I coughed, squirming a bit under the scrutiny.
"Well?" I finally asked, and Smaug lowered his head to look me more directly in the eye. In a way, it was actually a bit comforting, as if he wanted to place us on a slightly more level playing field.
"Tell me about hobbits," he finally said, inquisitive and a bit harsh, but certainly not particularly dangerous, or even cruel. Even still, it wasn't precisely an easy request.
"It's not so simple, really. We're an entire group, after all; it's difficult to describe so many in so few words. It would be a bit like saying that all dragons are flying, destructive monstrosities, wouldn't it?" Smaug snorted, smoke slipping from his mouth and nose and floating wispily around my head. I smiled; the warmth, at least, was quite welcome so deep underground.
"I'd assumed that everyone thought that true," he said, and I shook my head.
"You're not hurting anyone now, are you? As for your request… I suppose it's fair enough to say we're a simple people. We like the small things; good food and good company, a nice evening spent with a book or a pipe. We don't stray from the Shire; it's good, green land and very few care enough to bother us there. We've only suffered hardship once, to my knowledge, during the Fell Winter when white wolves and Orcs attacked us. That was the only time we fought as well, I believe." Smaug looked exceptionally confused, and for some reason, that made me feel almost proud.
"You… are not warriors?" I laughed.
"Certainly not! Why, the closest I ever came to battle before I took up with the dwarves was tussling with a cousin of mine over the last piece of fresh bread! As I said before, I am, as far as I know, the only hobbit to have ever strayed so far from home; the furthest any had gone before was Rivendell." He nodded, edging faintly closer like an eager fauntling at story time.
"So you are not warriors. Perhaps farmers? You smell strongly of soil and green things as the dwarves smell of stone and shining things. You're tied to it, yes?" I nodded, smiling myself with the memory.
"Yes; we're of the earth, us hobbits, and we do farm, but generally only enough for ourselves. Sometimes, of course, we sell to some others, mostly the few humans in Bree, but it's only rarely, when we truly must." He tilted his head, expression surprisingly blatant.
"Isolated, then, and separate from the troubles of the world. Not weak, however, or at least not you; you've gained the marks of iron and blood. Why involve yourself in the hardships of those dwarves?" That was a simple question, after all this time; perhaps the simplest one I'd ever been asked.
"I love my Shire, and my home there, Bag End. I've never truly known anything else, beyond, perhaps, the fields and the forests surrounding it. I'm not built for adventuring, really; for a long time I thought the worst trouble I could befall was forgetting my handkerchief at home. These dwarves, though… they don't know home as I do; they've lost theirs. I swore to them that if I could help them get it back, I would do so, simply because I cannot imagine losing my own." A dragon's smile was quite unnerving, what with all the teeth; Smaug's was exceptionally so, but somehow, I found myself growing a touch attached to it.
Although despite the smile, he did look confused, at least a bit, as though my reply were unexpected. Perhaps it was; I was under no illusions that what I'd done was normal, or sane, or… well, really it had just been a bad idea all around, honestly, but still. I shrugged like I needed an excuse.
"I'd call that noble, were it not exceptionally stupid. They are dwarves, you think any one of them would have done the same had a roving band of hobbits requested their aid?" I chuckled, shaking my head.
"I couldn't say, though I imagine they would now even if not before. They're my friends." That really did leave him shocked, I think; he truly didn't care for dwarves, obviously, if ever I thought it might've been an act.
"A hobbit befriending dwarves. Dwarves befriending anyone. Surely this is an event for the history books!" That did startle a laugh out of me, however unwillingly.
"Perhaps so, though I think a dragon asking aid of both groups to defeat a mysterious evil is more remarkable still." He nodded, letting out a sigh that shook a pile of gold from the top of the mound.
"Likely so; believe me, I do not relish in doing so. Now, do you think I might ask what, exactly, was the plan before you knew of my… troubles? And, perhaps, how you did learn of them?" I crossed my legs, attempting to find a touch more comfort on the hard stone floor.
"I learned of what truly happened to you from an elf in Mirkwood, though I ask that you not tell the dwarves that. As for the original plan, I was meant to be the burglar, to creep here and steal the Arkenstone as you slept." Smaug nodded, expression very bland and very unimpressed indeed.
"Ah, yes, the bane of Durin's line; I should've assumed that silly little stone was the reason for this assault. I wonder still how they've not yet learned that the stone is the source of their madness." The words made me nervous again; I knew the stone was dangerous, of course, or at least I'd assumed, and I'd been told to keep it from Thorin, but I knew well its importance to him, to his family.
"What… what is the Arkenstone, exactly? I've been told that I shouldn't allow Thorin to have i." Smaug let his head sway from side to side, a refusal if ever I saw one.
"No, unless you wish him to succumb to the madness of his forefathers, you should not give the stone to him. It is… an old thing, obviously, with magic of its own and long ago bound to set fire to Durin blood. A pretty little bauble, I do admit."
"All Durins?" I asked, and Smaug inclined his head.
"All who see it, yes." So even Fili and Kili would suffer the gold sickness if I allowed the Arkenstone to remain. I truly would have to do something, then, anything to keep it away.
"I know that there is no lost love between you and the dwarves, Smaug, but I beg you; help me keep it from them. That shocked him, too; it seemed as though I was skilled at as much. At last, however, the dragon nodded.
"I suppose I might. After all, they have left me such a pretty, interesting thing, have they not? I suppose I owe you as much for being an interesting diversion. I shall dispose of the stone upon our return to this room, yes? After defeating the beast." It took me perhaps a few moments longer than it should have to truly understand his words.
"Pretty?" I finally asked, very likely sputtering at least a bit, and Smaug laughed.
"Indeed. Have I overstepped my bounds? I assure you, in any case, that I was not lying, though if you prefer I not say so, I will not." Those eyes burned, brilliant gold, and I couldn't resist smiling, a bit. After all, it wasn't often that I got such compliments, and certainly never from… well, a dragon.
"I suppose I don't mind," I said, quietly, and he almost seemed to bow.
"That is good, little hobbit." I sighed.
"Bilbo, if you please," I told him, unwilling to deal with another who called me anything but my name.
"Bilbo, then," he said, curling slightly around himself, almost appearing to yawn. "Now, shall we sleep? The night grows old and the portal will soon be ready." That, I supposed, was a reasonable request, or at least as reasonable as anything else I'd faced in the past months, though it really was a shame that a dragon requesting me to have a nap was the most reasonable thing that had occurred of late. In any case, I moved a bit nearer to the dragon, basking in his warmth in the chilly cavern, and, with shocking speed, fell into a deep sleep.
Dawn came far too early, an unfamiliar, too large hand shaking me awake. I jolted away, gasp on my lips, as I was faced with a tall man I didn't recognize, dark haired and thin, eyes blazing gold.
"Good morning, Bilbo; the portal is ready, and your dwarves should be here shortly, bringing with them those who arrived from Laketown hours ago, as if enough of them haven't come traipsing through here. It is time for us to enter the monster's world." I stared at him. He sighed. "I am Smaug, hobbit; look at the portal. Does it appear as though I could actually pass through that in my other form?" I stared. The portal was about the size of an average door, I could admit, but even still… this was quite unexpected. I cleared my throat, trying to think of what was best to say next, but I couldn't manage to think of anything. Smaug's lips quirked, eyes alight with amusement as he straightened the clothes he'd apparently found somewhere in the cavern.
"Oh," I finally said, and he laughed, holding out a hand.
"Shall we, hobbit? I look forward to this journey." I suppose that, like many other things that had happened recently, should've been ominous. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to see it as such. I took his hand. I had wanted an adventure, after all; I saw nowhere in the world where I might get a better one.
"As do I." I've never seen someone look happier than he at that very moment, when the dwarves marched into the room like fine soldiers, and, standing by us, stepped through the glowing portal into an entirely different world.